


(but time leaves us polished stones)

by manhattanvalleys



Category: One Piece
Genre: Blow Jobs, Explicit Sexual Content, Future Fic, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Other, Rough Oral Sex, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-07 11:31:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18619771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manhattanvalleys/pseuds/manhattanvalleys
Summary: “Fuck,” Law says faintly, “yes.” He bites at the inside of his cheek, and tries not to say something truly stupid, such asI haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that night.





	(but time leaves us polished stones)

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to [the sea throws rocks together](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13211799).

Another night, another inn, another party thrown by the pirate king’s crew; two weeks since the night they spent drinking together alone, and nothing like it since. Law spends the evening watching Luffy, and trying not to wonder whether the last time was—last.

It isn’t until the party starts slowing down that Luffy comes to find him, drawing him out of the commons on a pretext that Law forgets within seconds. He follows Luffy into the hallway quiet, and barely believes his ears—or his _luck_ —when Luffy says, “Wanna return that favor?”

“Now?” Law says, staring at him. And, far more pressingly, “ _Here?_ ”

“There’s a closet,” Luffy says, his grin brimming with mischief, and pulls Law further down the hallway by the hand. There is, indeed, a closet some dozen feet on: not far from the stairwell that Law guesses leads down to the wine cellar, and easy to miss in the dim. Luffy stops proudly outside it, as though to present his discovery.

Law looks at him, and looks at the door, and finds himself wondering whether this is what other people did with their youth while he was busy prying open the living and chasing after the dead.

Whether _Luffy_ —

“Yeah,” he hears himself say, “okay.”

“Knew it,” says Luffy smugly, and drags him inside.

 _Inside_ proves to be a broom closet, filled with some few stacked barrels and crates and a forlorn mop in its bucket. There’s just enough space for both of them, and Luffy nudges him forward, closes the door behind them both. “Toldja.” His grin is cheshire-like as he leans back against the door, shoulders thrust back and hips angled sharply forward, stunningly lewd given Law’s frame of mind. “Still wanna?”

“Fuck,” Law says faintly, “yes.” He bites at the inside of his cheek, and tries not to say something truly stupid, such as _I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that night._

Since a lot longer than that, actually, but he certainly doesn’t plan on admitting to _that._

“All right,” Luffy says—tilts his head back and gives Law a half-lidded stare that slides downward from his jaw, ending pointedly just below the belt. Law feels the once-over like a physical thing, all at once intensely aware of how he and Luffy fill the small space: of the negligible distance between them, of the way Luffy’s confident slouch against the door nearly bumps his hip against Law’s own. Luffy’s fingers brush against his neck, unexpected, and Law inhales sharply, holds his breath as those fingertips trace down along his collarbone and dip lower, following the soft line of where fabric meets skin.

When Luffy finally reaches the first fastened button of his shirt—somewhere below the leer of Law’s tattooed jolly roger—his fingers catch, and so too does Law’s breath. His voice comes out strangled, squeezed out through the tension that fills the little room wall to wall. “ _Luffy._ ”

Luffy’s gaze snaps up to meet his, the disinterested facade vanishing in favor of his familiar easy expression. “Okay,” he says, and unhooks his fingers from Law’s shirt—gives Law a gentle push with one hand that makes him rock back to his full height, realizing only then how far towards Luffy he’s leaned. “All right. Get on your knees, Torao.”

The words send a shiver down Law’s spine, and his legs fold underneath him seemingly without consultation from his brain. It’s in this most inappropriate moment that it strikes him to say, “I haven’t—actually done this before.”

“It’s okay,” Luffy says, watching with interest as he sinks to his knees, “I’ll tell you what to do.” And then, with a grin, “Really, never?”

Law flushes. “I’ve never had the right sort of partner.” And, by way of weak explanation, “There hasn’t been anyone but Monet in . . . a long time.”

Easier than admitting that for him sex tends towards difficult and unpleasant, that by and large it’s not something he _likes;_ that most of the time it falls somewhere between a punishment and a chore on the scale, or occasionally in the realm of a really, _really_ dull book.

He is not, just then, ready to explain to Luffy that it’s only for _him_ that he’s losing his mind.

Luffy says again, “’S okay,” his demeanor fond, and reaches out to touch him. Law leans mindlessly into his palm, drawn by the contact, but Luffy doesn’t stop at his jaw, slides his right hand lower and back, fingers curling deliberately into Law’s hair. Law tilts his head back, reflexive, and sees that Luffy’s eyes have gone dark and interested, filled with a dangerous concentration.

His own eyes widen at the sensation of Luffy’s left thumb rubbing impudently over his lips, callous-rough. “Open up, Torao.”

Law doesn’t even think to protest. Parts his lips and feels Luffy push a thumb and two fingers inside, casually entitled—Luffy’s thumb stretches his mouth, and his fore and middle finger pinch Law’s tongue, forcing him agape. Law can taste the salt on his skin, feel all the callouses and scrapes on Luffy’s hands in visceral detail against his tongue, and for a moment the shape and texture of Luffy’s fingers hold all his attention, his universe shrinking down to a point.

Then Luffy’s right hand withdraws from his hair, and two more fingers push into the space made by Luffy’s left forefinger and thumb. A sound escapes Law’s throat, and he finds himself unable to do anything but stare as Luffy thrusts his fingers repeatedly into his mouth—first two, then three, stretching his lips awkwardly wide. He is vividly aware of the vulgar physicality of the act, deeply humiliated and savagely aroused, unable to pry one from the other.

The sudden loss of stimulation when Luffy pulls back leaves him dizzied, and Law gasps, ducking his head to swallow. Nearly demands to know why Luffy’s _stopped,_ but for that when he looks up the sight of Luffy grinding the heel of his palm against where he’s visibly hard in his jeans proves far more arresting.

“Damn,” Luffy says as Law stares, and grinds his palm down again, a riveting motion. “That was hotter than I thought. Fuck.”

Law, mortifyingly wet from that alone, can only silently concur. Luffy catches his eyes, and says, “Suck me?” Pushes his hips forward, obvious demand.

Law swallows, hard, and says hoarsely, “Yeah.” Brings his hands up to unfasten Luffy’s jeans, his fingers clumsy on the button, and tugs open the zipper, arousal fogging his head.

Then he hooks his fingers through Luffy’s belt loops, and pulls down.

“ _Unh,_ ” Luffy says, articulately.

His cock thrusts up towards Law, short and thick. Luffy is stiffly erect—flushed all the way down to his balls—and Law can’t help the burst of saliva in his mouth at the sight, nor the burst of wet between his legs.

He licks his lips, and leans cautiously forward to press a kiss to the head. Pauses there, interested by how it bumps against his lips, by the softness of the skin, and doesn’t—move, yet.

His moment of hesitation is enough for Luffy to take the lead. Luffy rolls his hips forward, and Law’s lips part helplessly around the intrusion, the head of Luffy’s cock pushing firmly inside.

It’s bigger than he expects. Feels improbably large, entering his mouth—his lips stretch wide, and he finds it difficult to swallow around the heavy press of it on his tongue, around Luffy’s _taste_. Luffy’s scent fills his nose, and for a moment he’s overwhelmed by the abrupt awareness of his own limitations, by the obscene reality of Luffy’s cock filling his mouth. He moans, starkly embarrassing, but Luffy makes a soft sound of approval, and slides a hand into his hair. “Use your tongue, Torao. Suck.”

Which is—so _far_ into the realm of Law’s wet dreams that he’s sure his eyes nearly roll back in his head, and it’s only by some miracle that he doesn’t groan in full voice. With a struggle, he wrenches his attention to task, and moves his tongue experimentally under the head, up the shaft. Does it again when Luffy’s cock jumps in his mouth, then pulls back just enough to run the flat of his tongue against the tip.

“Fuck,” Luffy says, “fuck, yeah, just like that. You’re doing so good.” His fingers card through Law’s hair, tender, and Law feels—like a dog at the feet of its master, his pleasure spiking shamefully at the little praise. He shifts, his own need building between his legs, and doesn’t dare reach down.

Closes his eyes, instead, and sucks.

Luffy swears colorfully above him. Presses his hand down more firmly at the back of Law’s head, pushing him further onto his cock, and Law takes him deeper—has to focus on breathing evenly enough not to choke as Luffy’s hips start to rock involuntarily back and forth, caught up in the steady pressure. “Yeah,” Luffy says again, “fuck, yeah—”

And gives a sudden, harsh thrust of his hips, jamming his cock nearly into the back of Law’s throat.

Law doesn’t expect it. He gags; chokes noisily against the head of Luffy’s cock and pulls off, gasping and suddenly _empty._ Above him, Luffy says, “Ah, fuck,” in a wholly different tone, and then, while Law catches his breath, “I didn’t mean—sorry ’bout that, Torao—”

“Oh god,” Law says, in a voice barely his own, “oh _god,_ _do that again._ ”

Which stops Luffy’s apology in its tracks, and makes him lean forward to peer into Law’s eyes, his expression at once curious and intense. “You liked that,” he says, with something like wonder; and then, as Law stares back at him, swallowing hard against the needy litany of _yes oh god please yes_ that’s trying to claw its way up out of his throat, “ _Right_.”

Luffy’s next words promise to feature prominently in Law’s every subsequent sexual fantasy. “I’m gonna fuck your mouth.”

And he doesn’t wait for Law to respond, shoving roughly into his mouth. Holds there for a just moment, as though gauging Law’s reaction, or giving him time to reconsider—but Law moans openly around his cock, discomfort corkscrewing into pleasure, and Luffy understands.

Braces the back of Law’s head with his hands, and that’s the last courtesy Law gets before Luffy starts fucking him in earnest. Luffy doesn’t hold back: thrusts deep and hard enough that Law can practically feel it in his cunt, each push of Luffy’s cock echoed with reference-perfect clarity down between his legs. He chokes, and his eyes water, and Luffy doesn’t stop, just picks up the pace—“Take it, Torao, fuck!”—and Law does, screws his eyes shut and allows himself to be used.

He is desperately wet between his legs, dripping down his inner thighs despite his jeans, soaking his underwear through. His thighs quiver with the effort of keeping them spread, and he needs to touch himself, to grind against the seam of his jeans, to squeeze his legs together, _something:_ anything at all to relieve the urgent need in his cunt, to cut the string by which his orgasm hangs.

Only: this time is supposed to be about _Luffy,_ and Law wants so badly to be _good_.

Above him, Luffy gasps, “I’m close,” and pulls abruptly back, his cock leaving Law’s mouth with a filthy _pop._ “I’m gonna—fuck—”

Law leans after him, automatic, chasing, and—

—feels something hot splatter across his cheeks and nose and mouth, stunned for an instant into nonreaction. Droplets catch in his lashes—on his still-parted lips—and he blinks, his brain processing what’s happened on a time-lag delay.

_Oh._

His own orgasm blankets him like a crashing wave, so intense that he forgets to be ashamed. Feels the hot pulse between his legs, and his mouth opening in a soundless ‘o’, and his back arching—and knows nothing at all but that heart-stopping moment of total negation, engulfed by the breathtaking crest of his pleasure.

Comes back to himself as he’s shuddering forward, eyes flying open, and hears Luffy say, “Holy _shit,_ Torao.”

“Ah,” says Law, and licks around his lips, blithely unselfconscious amid the deluge of endorphins.

Luffy swears, and slides down against the door, his jeans still caught awkwardly half-way down his thighs. Law scoots back to make room: his knees protest painfully as he pushes off them and sits back, unbends his legs as much as the space allows. He ends up with one knee jammed under Luffy’s arm, the heels of his boots angled awkwardly between the wall and floor, but the relief still nearly rivals his afterglow. He tips his head back, and gives a blissful sigh.

When he looks down Luffy’s finished fastening his shorts and is watching him, his big brown eyes dancing with amusement. “You’ve still got a bit—right there,” Luffy informs him, and swipes a thumb across Law’s nose and cheek, making him blink. “I can’t believe that made you come.”

Law’s face heats. He opens his mouth to respond, and—

—closes it again as Luffy draws his knees up against his face and dissolves into laughter, a happy sound that eases Law’s mounting embarrassment, for all that Luffy’s certainly laughing at _him._ Luffy’s laugh bubbles out of him like a spring in the mountains, like bells; fits into the world like it belongs there, and warms Law’s fast-beating heart.

He says, softly, into that laughter: “I am not—reasonable, about you.”

When he can manage words again Luffy says, “I know, Torao. It’s _okay_.” He smiles at Law from behind his knees. “I like that.”

Law is seized by a most unreasonable urge to kiss him, then.

He doesn’t—doesn’t let himself indulge the thought, doesn’t move, but the desire lingers all the same, hovering just past the edge of compulsion. “I like everything about you,” falls out of his mouth, more honest than he intends, and, weak mitigation, “you drive me crazy. You know that.”

“Yeah,” Luffy says. His hand finds Law’s own on the floor, and he knits their fingers together, casual.

Law’s heart stutters to a stop in his chest.

He says, “Luffy, I—” Stops. Has to take a breath, overcome by the sense that everything has spiralled entirely out of his control, gone careening past the lines as he understood them to be. “I need to know what this _is_.”

Luffy’s gaze is even, meeting his own. “Whatever you want it to be.”

It’s in that instant—between one breath and the next—that Law’s fragmenting resolve passes the point of no return, cracks running suddenly wide and deep enough to shatter the whole. “Why _now,_ ” he demands.

And doesn’t let Luffy answer, the rest leaving him in a rush. “You knew—you must have known what I wanted, all those years ago. You must have, because you,” and he can hear himself pitching higher, his voice going wretchedly raw, but there’s something inside him collapsing, cleaving all the way down, and he can’t _stop,_ can’t hold back everything that’s been running circles in his head since that night at the bar, “you see through me like I’m made of glass, like you know everything about me. You always have, so out of everything, out of all of it, you must have known _that_.” Inhale, and it’s not enough, he’s suffocating, he’s drowning, he’s going under for good. “But you never—fuck, Luffy, you never . . .”

“What?” Luffy says, staring at him, wide-eyed.

“You never _kissed me back,_ ” punches out of Law’s chest, and he clamps a hand over his mouth, physical reflex to his own stupidity.

Far too late, as always.

For a moment everything seems to stop. Luffy is still, the silence suspended between them, Law frozen by his own self-annihilating panic.

Then Luffy says, “Torao, you’re not breathing,” and Law suddenly finds himself with an armful of pirate king, tumbling into him, making him inhale in knee-jerk response. Luffy’s arms snake around his torso, and Luffy’s so close that his nose bumps against the hand Law still has pressed over his mouth. “Hey. I know. You waited a long time.” Luffy's fingers wrap carefully around Law’s palm, gentle suggestion, and Law slowly eases his grip, allows Luffy to draw his hand away from his face. Luffy presses it back over his head, then does the same with the other, pinning both of his hands above him with one hand.

Holds him there, breathlessly exposed.

It's an acutely vulnerable position, and Law gasps out, “Ten _years,_ Luffy.” His shudder is full-body and obvious, splayed like this, and he closes his eyes because it’s easier to speak when he doesn’t have to see Luffy looking at him. “I can’t—keep doing this, after waiting that long, without knowing what it means. It can’t be whatever I want when I don’t know what it is to you.” Luffy’s fingers are warm between his own, and it takes every ounce of his willpower not to grasp Luffy’s hand in return, to keep from repeating the same intimate gesture that so unraveled him moments ago.

“Okay,” Luffy says.

And kisses him, just like that.

All the tension drains out of Law in one go. He sinks against the floor, hand closing helplessly against Luffy’s, and feels the clamor in his head go briefly, blessedly silent.

The kiss is deep, and perfect, and when they part—a long, long moment later—Luffy asks him, “Does that answer your question?”

“ _Oh,_ ” Law sighs, and looks up at him, powerless against the strange warmth that’s unfolding in his chest, flooding him with relief and something that he suspects may best be termed _joy._ “Oh, yes.” And, quite thoughtlessly, “Thank god.”

“Thank _me,_ ” Luffy says, so Law kisses him again—and again, and again, the novelty failing to diminish. Revels in being allowed _,_ and the knowledge that what Luffy wants is _this_ , after all.

Luffy meets him exactly half-way, ardently fierce, releases his hands when Law stirs restlessly underneath him. Kisses his way down to Law’s collarbone before coming back up, and says, as he leans to bite at the shell of Law’s ear, “Sorry, Torao. For making you wait so long.” His breath tickles, and Law can feel his smile as he presses another kiss just below. “Still want me?”

Law shivers. Thinks of the nights spent staring at the ceiling of his cabin, and all the mornings on which he woke thinking of Luffy, not knowing where he was and scared senseless by the possibility that he might not be anywhere at all, and of all the things he never dared to say—

“You have no idea,” he breathes. _More than anything._

“Good,” Luffy says.

Everything is very simple, after that. 


End file.
